


Amor Fati in Hell

by spnsmile



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive Alastair (Supernatural), Alastair Being an Asshole (Supernatural), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Bad Decisions, Bad Flirting, Bed Sex, Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Bottom Dean Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Castiel Drives the Impala (Supernatural), Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel Saves Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Coda, Dark fic, Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dean Winchester Makes Bad Decisions, Dean Winchester Makes Mistakes, Dean Winchester Makes Sacrifices For Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Dean Winchester is Loved, Dean Winchester is Protective of Castiel, Declarations Of Love, Destiel - Freeform, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dorks in Love, Double Penetration, Drunk Dean Winchester, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Hand & Finger Kink, Heartbreak, Heartbreaking, Heavy Angst, Hopeless Dean Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Overprotective Castiel (Supernatural), Overprotective Dean Winchester, Post-Canon, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Protectiveness, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Raped Dean Winchester, Recovery, Rock Bottom - Freeform, Sad, Sad Dean Winchester, Season 15, Season/Series 15 Spoilers, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sex in/on the Impala (Supernatural), Shameless Big Bang, Shameless Smut, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Shower Sex, Sick Dean Winchester, Smut, Suffering, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, The Impala (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 05:11:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21452557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnsmile/pseuds/spnsmile
Summary: Coda written post 15x05Fate cruelly sets when Dean realizes Chuck’s bloodlust of end game in the shape of Sam’s recurring dreams. In many versions, it always end the same: Winchester brothers killing the other. There’s no real choice of who kills who. Dean takes matters to his hands. He calls Alastair.But the demon proves merciless when he sees what Dean really wants and it’s not death. A certain angel gets the surprise of his life when he sees the impala parked outside his motel room. Searching for Dean, Castiel isn’t prepared to see what’s in the trunk.Castiel raises hell to get Dean back on his feet, but is returning after their fall out enough to convince Dean to fight his fate? Just when they reconnect, Alastair returns to reclaim what’s his and no shred of soul will be left to Dean this time.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 11
Kudos: 38





	Amor Fati in Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Billie showed Dean the contents of his ever changing fate. The two words of how he will meet his end. Except it doesn't settle. It shifts when he read it, then shifts again. Only it's always just between two names that flickers in and out like bad light:
> 
> He gets killed by Sam Winchester.
> 
> Then it shifts to Dean Winchester. Then again to Sam. Then his name.
> 
> Except Dean doesn't find it surprising.
> 
> ***  
This fic will not be nice to Dean and Castiel at the beginning, like most dark fics. Happy endings are hard earned because those two are stubborn as hell when it comes to chick flicks T_T Tags for non/con must be noted! Violence too! And smuttttt T_T
> 
> SMUT/noncon right off the bat :o

_It’s over._

“I know you’re there.” Dean says heavily. He stands in the middle of the dark woods with only the headlight of the impala upon his back.

Eerie silence greeted his rough voice rippling through the serene darkness of the night, but soon he hears the snapping of twigs, indicating an arrival.

_“My puppet.”_

Dean closes his eyes.

Waves of emotions set his lips clamping shut with shivers running down his spine. He swallows hard.

He thought he’s ready for this, but turns out he’s just another coward with tail between his shaky legs seeking pain to compensate for what he could not do alone. He fights down the urge to run, the urge to jump on his car and drive away, so far away from the voice that had been the center of his nightmares for years after escaping hell.

He thought he’d never hear that voice again, and yet here they are. And the worst part is, it hasn't even begun. 

Dean opens his wet eyes and faces skywards. This must be one of those endings Chuck had written out of pure malice of his character where Sam is not involved. Probably wrote it the moment he disappeared from the graveyard.

Well, yeah, it’s happening that’s why it’s going down. He also knows he can’t fight god altogether without making a firm choice. It’s either him or Sam. Fuck that, Dean is never part of the saving choice. Dean will and always choose his brother reasons be damned. Embedded by his father and his own determination to do his remaining family member some good.

Sam deserves better than the blood of his brother on his hand. No amount of torture will be equivalent of killing his only brother. Dean’s gotta take that responsibility away from him now. Sam has to be saved.

Alastair's stare is like snakes curling on Dean's very being. Dean has to grate himself to stand his ground.

To hell is he going to let the same story to happen all over again where Sam is used against him. All those paths of demon bloods or Lucifers or Mark of Cain can suck it. Fuck Detroit and Sioux Falls. Dean understands there’s only one way he can end this without dragging Sam to pull the trigger, without letting Chuck win.

Inside his car, he knows his phone is ringing incessantly. It’s been two days. Sam will understand. He wanted to tell Sam, wanted to confess his regrets and goodbyes, about his irrepairable damage to Cas, about his fears and his doubts in their lives. But time just isn't enough.

Pulling himself out of his reverie, Dean Winchester bows his head for a moment to calm himself.

It doesn’t help that his chest is heaving badly it just wants to drop his heart away to stop the fear closing him in. Dean’s not scared, but in face of his greatest nightmare, the demon who owned him his whole time in hell, Dean can’t help shaking.

All his resolved melted into his fear. The mere thought of calling Alastair unnerved him. All Dean Winchester’s bravado about free will and fighting till the end guns blazing turned to ashes when he finally realized how his ending must go. What Billie showed him in that black folder is still going to end up in this scenario.

Two words written in plain black. Now he understands.

Dean slowly turns to face Alastair with the impala’s bright lights hurting his eyes. The demon is sitting on the hood of his impala, just between the headlights but Dean can see his lanky silhouette. Dean can recognize that form anywhere, but it’s the white- milky eyes that strikes him the most.

The moment their eyes meet, Dean wants to kneel and beg to die. He knows he won’t achieve that easily, but this is the only way to achieve death where he doesn't have to doubt surviving or mercy. Not even sympathy. He knows Alastair. Alastair will do it. Not so quickly, but thoroughly he will. 

This way Sam will be unburdened from the endless cycle Chuck has so mercilessly bestowed. 

Dean finds the guts to look up. Alastair quietly stares him down. There's only the spund of his pounding heart. The hunter tries to keep his chin up, but fails miserably as he drops his eyes on the ground. He can hear Alastair chuckling with that overly deep, dispassionate tone laced with cruelty and malice. Dean remembers him well.

“Dean Winchester came looking for me, after all.” Alastair cocks his head. “I knew you would come looking. Did you miss me, puppet?”

Dean bites his lips to the point of bleeding. Alastair can see through him like razors scissoring his soul limb by limb. He’s done in hell before. The flicker of menace lingers a little long on those cruel white as it raked at Dean’s body from head to toe. Dean wants to burn his clothes because it’s not doing anything to shield him at all. He is naked to Alastair, always been. His mouth quivers. Alastair smiles.

“I still have this effect on you after all these years, Dean, love? Is it why you bothered to come looking for me? I heard you got Lilith again. Did she tell you? Answer me, puppet?” it wasn’t as much as an order, but Dean is nodding submissively. He’s got no weapon, he’s naked in the eyes of his torturer, his soul has no place to hide now.

Alastair takes his time just watching Dean squirm under his eyes. The hunter’s chest pounds erratically, his fingers digging on his palm. He has surrendered his life the moment he decided to offer himself back to Alastair. There’s no turning back.

“What do you want, Dean?” Alastair’s voice is sweet as poison.

“I want to die.” Dean hears himself say, though he doesn’t recognize the voice. “Please… just…help me finish it.” His only comfort is Sam not hearing him say it. Won’t know how he begged for it.

The white eyes glint with interest.

“Oh? Broken even before I can lay hands on you, that’s unfair. Come here, Dean. Walk to me. Let me see you. Let me touch you.”

Dean falters a little, eyes fixed at the demon. Then he braces himself and takes step forward. The hunter doesn’t let the whimper that’s been threatening to explode out of his throat. No. He grinds his teeth and swallows it. He holds on to the pieces of him that has decided this is for Sam. He has long figured he and Sam couldn’t live in a world peacefully without Chuck getting his way.

So, this is Dean getting his way.

He takes a small step forward and staggers a little. Alastair flashes him a cruel grin, like he knows Dean is so afraid of him. He watches the hunter with hawk-like eyes as he draws closer till Dean is an arm’s length.

The demon reaches both hands on the hunter’s arms, his palms rough and dry like it’s been under the sun, except it’s not warm. He rubs him from wrist to elbow, eyes catching the lust Dean’s seen in him many times. Like the demon’s about to begin something fun.

All kinds of hellish fun.

Dean wants to crawl away, but he grounds his feet. He fights back the growl he’d usually let out before a fight and let it sink in his stomach. He is back in Alastair’s clutches. By his own choice, not gods. It’s the end. Dean got what he wanted, a shift on the story. Freewill. 

Alastair peers at him from where he sits, drawing Dean closer between his legs, his chin in the middle of the hunter’s chest. Dean wants to run away. He doesn’t.

His mind, heart and body clashing in leaves him numb and lost. The confusion of his choice, being able to do it and wanting it breaks something in his mind. His arms fall on his sides dumbly. Sam doesn’t have to carry the fate of killing him now. Dean can do right by his brother this time. At least with this useless fucking life of his… Sam get’s free.

“Very good, my puppet. I like you better when you had spunk. Makes breaking every little bit of you worth it. Not that I won’t like this easy one, puppet.” Alastair licks Dean’s chin up with sharp tongue sticking out, leaving trails of his saliva on the man’s cleft chin. Dean doesn’t respond and let’s Alastair wrap both hands around his waist, groping down his ass and pulling him closer.

“What do you want me to do again, puppet?” the demon mewled, planting kisses on Dean’s chest, biting on the fabric, raising the hair on Dean’s skin as he sees Alastair’s free hand palm his bulge. A single tear falls down Dean’s right cheek.

“Take me.”

The black eyes glint.

“You don’t think I’d give it to you easy, right, Dean?”

The wind gets knocked out of Dean’s lungs in a swift when Alastair grabs a handful of his collar and slams his back on the impala’s hood. His brain freezes at the pain. He feels the demon’s hand all over him—his chest, his hips, his stomach, his ass. Shock and fear shoots to his senses as Alastair wasted no time in tugging Dean’s shirt upwards, buttons flying free as his jacket gets torn on the collar. Dean hastily raises up to pull his clothes down but Alastair grabs his neck and slams him back the hood with force Dean hoped he’s broken his neck, but he’s still breathing and living this hell. His eyes blur as sounds of his clothes tearing apart leaves the hunter reaching for Alastair’s arm. The demon snatches his right hand and pins just above Dean’s head, rendering him unable to move to the advance. His torn clothes fell on the sides, leaving his bare chest exposed.

Alastair lavishly ran his sickeningly wet tongue on Dean’s torso, up to the center of his pectorals, free hand thumbing Dean’s hardening nipple and fixating brutally on that spot. Dean flushes. He avoids Alastair’s mouth when it nipped closer to his collar bone, suckling deep marks on his neck. He wants to panic at the press of body just above him, but he doesn’t want to make a sound, doesn’t want to let the demon get that from him.

This has happened before. He’s never mentioned it to any living soul because hell was hell. He can make it through again, then maybe when Alastair’s done and bored with him, he’d kill Dean. He hopes it’s in the near future.

Tears run down his cheeks when Alastair licks on his mouth. Dean tried to pull away but firm hand stays his chin, pulling it down so Dean’s mouth opens. Alastair takes everything.

_“I’m gonna make this mouth my fucking hole again, Dean. Remember the good ol days?”_

Dean wishes someone would rip his ears out. He can take that torture. Alastair doesn’t stop kissing repulsively until Dean’s mouth is swollen, not even when it’s bleeding from the demon’s cruel teeth. Dean has lost the will to move his arms. He lets the demon taste away every part of his skin, feels him slowly slide downwards, making Dean’s stomach churn and all air in his lungs to forget air. Alastair’s hand slowly digs down his hips, clawing on Dean’s jutting bones, and then sinking to his ass.

Instincts prove to be harder to control.

Dean scrambles up the hood, squirming away, not knowing whether he wants to stay on the hot surface of the car and let the demon ravage him or kick him in the face and get out of there. His thoughts didn’t last long as the demon unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants in quick succession. He is ripping Dean off his jeans from his toes in no time. The hunter stays still, head in a whirl as his legs get exposed on spread open for the demon. The sight scared Dean shitless.

“N-no…” he breathed, only to receive a menacing smile from the demon.

“Say it louder, puppet. It makes you sound so irresistible.” Alastair’s lips close on the fabric of Dean’s boxers, mouthing his erection, getting Dean to arch his body as he squirms to get away. His head reels, he feels nauseous. Alastair palms his cock, pressing and tugging on the aching limb.

Dean wiggles away, sweating, crying, every muscle of his body tensing, sending him warning from every direction. His heart doesn’t stop pounding, his mind getting mixed signals from the hated touches when he’s reacting differently.

“No…” he pants again.

Alastair smiles wickedly. The hunter cries out in agony when the demon finally rips the remaining fabric and holds Dean’s half erect member. He holds tight, like how he’d hold a snake, gleefully twisting it to his delight. Dean grinds his teeth.

“Lovin it, don’t you? Your body must remember me, Dean. Admit it. You miss me.”

Dean tenses as the jerking comes hard and painful almost burning the skin running from the head of the shaft, down to the base touching his balls. Alastair would tug up, ripping and stretching the tight skin with a smile. Dean doesn’t want to look below, doesn’t want to see Alastair in the same old position of power. He tries to muster his breathing, but fails again and again every time the demon would jerk his shaft in directions meant to hurt.

“What did you say? Harder?” Alastair

Dean lets out a yowl at the pace and tries to squirm away again. He tried to close his legs, but Alastair only hooks both hands on his legs and pull him down to the end of the impala and spread him open. Dean could feel Alastair’s erection right beneath his balls as the demon takes hold of Dean’s cock again. Alastair presses his thumb on the cut atop the soft skin, spreading the precum. Alastair is never known to be gentle.

“Do you want to cum on my hand, Dean? Or my mouth? This is the last time I’ll take care of you, puppet. When I drag you to hell again, that’s where the real fun will begin.”

Dean closes his eyes as the jerking intensifies, only to halt when Alastair takes his cock in his mouth. Dean wants to crawl away but the grip on his legs are hard. He can’t fight Alastair in full power. He has given in. There’s no turning back. He wonders idly if this was a stupid idea. Of course, it is. Doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be chosen. With limited choice it’s either he calls on Chuck or a demon.

Guess getting fucked by either doesn’t matter. His villain of the year is Chuck. Alastair just makes it acceptable because it’s what Dean deserved from the beginning. How dare the star shine on him tonight. Alastair doesn’t let up. His head bobs up and down, teeth all over marking Dean’s sensitive skin. Dean lets him, he just stares up and stares and waits for it to be over.

It’s all over.

Dean feels the suction get too hard, almost lifting him up the impala. The demons suck him in with loud sounds. Dean presses his lips tight, cheeks wet from his silent tears. Orgasm built over him and he’s about to release—only Alastair doesn’t let him.

Dean sucks in air, his head pounding. The demon had always been like that. Alastair licks his lips, staring at Dean’s red hardened length with his hand holding the base. He smiles in relish. “I can’t wait to fuck your soul again. Your body’s good, but your soul, Dean… nothing gets me higher than breaking it pieces to pieces. You’ve been rebuilt, I see that. Makes breaking your fun the second time.”

Dean doesn’t answer. He doesn’t react when the demon grabs a fistful of his short hair and drags him down the hood so his feet touches the ground. He gets flipped to his stomach. He faceplants the hot hood of his car. Not a second next, Dean’s crying in pain as Alastair fucks him cruelly from the back. It’s quick and rushed and painful. It burns his inside and out, breaking into his skin and pounding. Dean tries to claw the smooth metal with tears and drool all over the surface but can’t find any leverage to pull. His body jerks to the rhythm of the demon and Dean just wishes it to be over.

Still, he won’t have Sam kill him anyway. This fate he chose, he hopes Chuck is happy. Dean screwed big time. Dean will never be the same. He gets fucked inside the impala too. Alastair takes his time, pulling Dean on the edge and stopping when he knows Dean’s about to come. Then grinds back in, marking every inch of the hunter’s body, not letting up until Dean’s breaking into an anguish cry, taking every part Dean thought to be his. He’s wrong. Nothing in this world is his. He’s just their puppet. This body, this vessel is only a means to an end for the holder of real power. He is just their toy.

He blacks out with the last image of his hand twitching limply on the dashboard of his car, ass up with the demon gloriously savaging his abused bottom. He wonders when his heart would just stop after hours and hours of getting fucked.

He doesn’t want to wake up. Except, he knows he will.

He dreads the hour he opens his eyes. He’s sure there will be no hope for him this time.

* * *

_“Dean… Dean…”_

Dean shakes his head. He doesn’t want to hear that familiar voice. He can’t… not now, no way…

_“Dean… please come back to me… Dean!”_

I don’t want to… please don’t make me, Cas…

“DEAN!”

The hunter’s eyes painfully open at the hard gravelly voice almost growling out, hoarse and desperate next to his ear determined to disturb his eternal damnation.

_No… Cas shouldn’t…_ _always getting in his way… bastard... _

Still, he cracks his eyes to his surrounding. It is dim and blurry, he can’t see everything properly. But he can see those pair of blue eyes he’s loved from the beginning.Same hue, same breathe of heaven next to his face. Always warm and concerned. 

And wrong. 

Dean inhales as he remembers everything he's fucked up till that moment. He has already broken the angel many times, plucked his wings slowly and threw him out, blaming him for everything...

_So what’s Cas doing here now…? More importantly what is he... ?_

Something kicked at the back of his mind telling him it’s obvious because Cas cares. That melting feeling now feels so unfamiliar. after being left untapped for weeks. A part of him reminds him Cas wiññ save him. But Dean doesn't want to have that. He doesn't need that part of him that enjoyed everything in the peace of life. That part of him he’d never feel again as long as he lives. He pushes it away. The moment he did, White-demonic eyes wrap him in his arms. 

Dean can feel Alastair all over his body, his dirty intimate touches, the ache his hands caused, the pain he inflicted—the demon's hands running inside and out of his body—this dirty vessel.

Dean whimpers. 

What is Castiel doing cradling someone filthy like him?

Dean instinctively tries to squirm away from the angel’s touch. He’s underserving of Cas. He’s sullied, soiled and corrupted. Cas can’t—Cas shouldn’t even be there. Is this Alastair’s trick? Using Castiel as a final touch? Is this version going to fuck with him too?

Because that would destroy Dean entirely. 

He hopes Castiel is just a dream. Hopes he is back in the dungeon Alastair has kept him. But Castiel's caress on his cheeks burned Dean. He gasps and wiggles out what his weak body can muster, but strong hands keep him still.

With horrifying realization, he finds Castiel is really here beside him and that Dean is still alive. 

_“Dean, don’t move, you’re bleeding… just wait… I’m just… dammit, I’m pulling my grace, I’m going to heal you, okay? No, don’t speak yet, wait for me, Dean, don’t leave me, Dean… please, just stay for me, okay?”_

Dean sees him speak but couldn't follow with his swimming head. Warmth fills his legs where Cas must be using his mojo. Dean wants to tell him not to bother. Almost tells him there’s no cleansing that stain. But he knows Castiel. He will only be wasting his energy. 

After what seemed to be eternity, relief washes Dean's body and for a moment the pain breaks away.

“No, shit. Still not enough…”

Dean almost chuckles. Cas hardly curses and now he’s all damn it all. The hunter wonders…

“Dean? Dean, can you stand? I’ve healed most of your lower body… but you have to stop fighting me when I try to carry you. I’m sorry, I’m… please, just let me take you inside? Dean?”

Dean swallows hard. He opens his eyes again and there is Castiel. 

“Hey…” Castiel breaks into a smile for him, but there’s a strain so obvious in his features: worry, panic, relief and pain. Why’s this… why does Cas care so much when Dean has given up? They should let him give up. He can’t fight anymore.

“Let me take you, Dean.”

Fucking not deserving of this angel. 

_“I can’t Cas… I have to die. You have to let me go_.” Dean whispers, tears welling down his cheeks. He wants to sleep. Just let him sleep.

He feels the angel’s warm hands cup his cheeks. Castiel's touch trembles for some reason.

“Don’t say that, Dean… please… let me take you in?” he pleads. "Let me help... "

Dean stares at Cas wanting to find meaning in the angel's kindness. He found none. It's Cas and that's just... _Cas_. 

Dean’s heavy eyelids flutter close, but he nods. Only because it looks like Cas is about to die if he doesn’t. He can’t let Cas die. He should stay with Sam. Cas can look after Sam when he’s gone. That was the drill.

He doesn’t remember how Castiel heaves him easily from the ground despite the faltering grace. Doesn’t remember Castiel gently planting a kiss on his forehead once he’s settled him down the middle of the motel bed. Darkness looms in his head and he forgets everything. Even this little encounter.

Hours later, he feels the same warm arms envelope his whole body, pulling him close to a much familiar, intoxicating smell of home, draping around him protectively.

A strange feeling of guilt claws at the hunter, but for now, he lets himself soak in the angel’s heartfelt embrace. Because he’s certain this won’t last. Not with Alastair’s last words echoing in his ears like his own music found at the end of the tunnel. He knows why Alastair did this, he’s smart enough to figure it out because demons will be demons.

And this particular demon isn’t like any other. His words are absolute.

_I’ll have you back, puppet. I’ll have you._

_ _

**Author's Note:**

> Running for three chapters at most!  
Castiel's POV next! Pray for Cas!
> 
> Amor Fati!  
Love of Fate!


End file.
